#yampak

Iconic? How?

Yam-Pak are the face of Cantonese opera; you can't talk about the latter without mentioning the former. It's to the point where a gigantic picture of them graces the entrance to the Hong Kong Heritage Museum’s permanent exhibition on Hong Kong pop culture’s evolution across the past 60 years (“Hong Kong Pop 60+”) - they are the first thing you see upon entering!

Best known as the originators - with Yam playing the male leads and Pak the female leads - of five masterpieces of Cantonese opera, namely:

1. Princess Cheung Ping (帝女花) 2. The Legend of the Purple Hairpin (紫釵記) 3. The Dream Tryst in the Peony Pavilion (牡丹亭驚夢) 4. The Reincarnation of Lady Plum Blossom (再世紅梅記) 5. Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom (蝶影紅梨記) (Note: Princess Cheung Ping, Purple Hairpin, and Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom were made into abridged movie versions, with the Sin Fung Ming troupe members reprising their roles from the theatre productions. Also, the "Fragrant Sacrifice" (香夭) duet from Princess Cheung Ping (movie clip) is one of - if not the most - famous songs in Cantonese opera.)

Yam and Pak were the leading pair and co-founders of the legendary Sin Fung Ming Opera Troupe (仙鳳鳴劇團; 1956-1961), which is widely held to have pushed Cantonese opera forward as an artform due to Pak and scriptwriter Tong Tik Sang’s (唐滌生) emphasis on poetic libretti and adapting source material from Chinese literature and history. (Note: it has been common practice since the 1930's for Cantonese opera troupes to be founded by key actor(s).)

They were also very active in the Hong Kong film industry in the 1950's, being paired in over 40 movies together across roughly 8 years. One of those – the aforementioned Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom (蝶影紅梨記) – is the sole Cantonese opera movie on the Hong Kong Film Archive’s 100-Must See Hong Kong Movies list (IMDB list / archived version of the official PDF). It's a well-deserved inclusion - check out this beautifully-shot dance scene.

Even their post-retirement activities had a significant effect on the industry! In the early 1960’s, they held auditions for prospective students and provided - for free - systematic, hands-on training to those who passed; Yam and Pak even hired other veterans to teach skills they personally were not as familiar with. Prior to this, apprentices were expected to learn primarily from observing their masters, and to pay handsomely for the privilege. Yam-Pak’s methods proved exceedingly effective: the Chor Fung Ming Opera Troupe (雛鳳鳴劇團; 1963-1992) starring their apprentices reigned supreme in the 1970’s-1980’s. Following this success, Cantonese opera institutes - most notably the major 1900s-era guild, the Chinese Artists Association of Hong Kong (八和會館) - started to offer systematic coaching to young hopefuls in the 1980's.

Okay, so why are they queer icons specifically?

The lazy answer is that they're queer icons because nearly all of Yam's roles were male, so Gender is involved by default, and since most hit Cantonese operas of the time were romances, that means you get to see two female actors performing being in love onscreen (and also on stage, but there aren't any video recordings from back then). So far, so Takarazuka Revue.

Female actors playing male roles in Cantonese opera To give some context, each Cantonese opera performer specialises in one of four major role-types, and Yam was a sung (生) - i.e. an actor specialised in playing standard male roles. Female sung were fairly common in the 1910's-1930's due to women being banned from performing with men during that period, but when the ban lifted in the mid-1930's, many troupes shifted towards cis-casting. Yam was pretty much the only one whose popularity survived the transition. Just take a look at the huge number of Cantonese opera movies produced during the 1950’s-1960’s – you’ll be hard-pressed to find a female sung other than Yam, let alone one with top billing. Happily, thanks to Yam's immense popularity, her profilic film career (over 300 movies!), and the prominence of Sin Fung Ming works in the Cantonese opera canon, there has been a resurgence in female sung which endures to this day. Two noteworthy examples are Yam's protégé Sabrina Lee/ Loong Kim Sang (龍劍笙) - a star in her own right - and Joyce Koi/ Koi Ming Fai (蓋鳴暉), one of the biggest names still active in the industry. (Note: perhaps due to cinema being more "realistic" in nature, Yam's early movies often involved her playing female characters cross-dressing as men, including in some Cantonese opera movies. However, she received increasingly more male roles as her fame grew, and from the mid-1950's onwards she was playing male characters onscreen nearly exclusively-- even in non-Cantonese opera movies! See Photo 1 above.)

What sets Yam and Pak apart is that they were particularly known for their chemistry. Long before Sin Fung Ming's formation in 1956, the advertising copy for their first Cantonese opera movie together - Frolicking with a Pretty Maid in the Wineshop (酒樓戲鳳, 1952) - declared "Only this movie has Yam-Pak flirting on the silver screen" (source - 華僑日報 1952/05/23-26). And indeed, they were popular for their flirtatious duets: their Cantonese opera works invariably contained at least one, and such scenes made it into some of non-Cantonese opera (i.e. "contemporary") movies too. In fact, there are not one but two contemporary movies where Yam and Pak's characters are not paired up and yet still sing a duet together in such a way that their significant other(s) become convinced that the two are in romantically interested in each other - see 1952's Lovesick (為情顛倒) and 1956's The Happy Hall (滿堂吉慶) - a weirdly specific situation which doesn't crop up in the other, non-Yam-Pak movies I have seen.

Speaking of contemporary movies, let's talk about a certain plotline that keeps cropping up in works featuring the both of them and where Yam plays a woman! Six of the eleven movies which fit that criteria involve Yam's character cross-dressing as a man (a common characteristic across Yam's handful of female roles), and Pak's character falling for her. Nothing ever comes of it, of course, but, um. It was certainly a trend. Actually, even their very first movie together - 1951's Lucky Strike (福至心靈) - falls into this category.

Such storylines, and the emphasis on their chemistry, are particularly interesting given that both Yam and Pak remained ostensibly unmarried throughout. This was unusual for female performers of their stature, who tended to wed in their twenties, often to fellow-actors or wealthy men (e.g. Hung Sin Nui/紅線女, Fong Yim Fun/芳艷芬, and Tang Pik Wan/鄧碧雲)... In contrast, by the time Yam-Pak retired from the stage in 1961, they were both over 30 years old and without husbands.

Also, did I mention they were popularly believed to be living together? There doesn't seem to be any conclusive evidence either way... although it's a little strange that separate newspaper pictorials depicting "Yam at home" and "Pak at home" seem to be of the same location... however what is conclusive is that they did spent a lot of time together offstage. Pak has talked about how when they had no guests over, Yam would watch TV by herself while Pak was in the living room (source - p93), and protégé Mandy Fung/ Mui Suet Sze (梅雪詩) has said that Pak would sometimes cook for Yam at home (source - 03:53~). They would also celebrate birthdays, New Year's, and Christmas together (see Photo 6 for an example of the latter).

Shortly after Yam's passing in 1989, Pak set up the Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin Charitable Foundation (任白慈善基金) to support the arts and provide welfare for the elderly. In 1996, Pak made a large donation to Hong Kong University, resulting in one of the buildings being renamed Yam Pak Building (任白樓) in thanks (source).

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to DM me or send an ask if you have any questions, or are just interested in learning more.

If you made it here, have this bonus piece of trivia - Yam and Pak were also well-acquainted with Hong Kong's preeminent queer icon, Leslie Cheung (張國榮), who was a massive fan of theirs. Sadly there don't seem to be any pictures of them before Yam's passing, but here's one of Pak (centre) having afternoon tea with Cheung (left) and his long-term romantic partner Daffy Tong (唐鶴德) (right) at the Cova cafe in the Pacific Place shopping mall.

Summary Inspired by Shen Fu/沈復's Qing Dynasty autobiography Six Records of a Floating Life/浮生六記. Madam Yun focuses on Shen Fu (Yam Kim Fai) and his wife Yun (Pak Suet Sin), who live in married bliss with their children at the former’s familial home. However, they fall foul of the machinations of Shen Fu’s younger half-brother, who has designs on the inheritance, and are summarily kicked out. The young family struggle to adjust to their poverty, but their plight is worsened by Yun becoming chronically ill; these desperate straits result in Shen Fu having to leave his family behind in search of paying work. Thankfully, after all his efforts he is able to find a benefactor, and the family is reunited under one roof (which is, sadly, not what happened in real life).

Links:

My post about Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin being queer icons

Outline & Scene Summary Inspired by Shen Fu/沈復's Qing Dynasty autobiography Six Records of a Floating Life/浮生六記. Madam Yun focuses on Shen Fu (Yam Kim Fai) and his wife Yun (Pak Suet Sin), who live in married bliss with their children at the former’s familial home. However, they fall foul of the machinations of Shen Fu’s younger half-brother, who has designs on the inheritance, and are summarily kicked out. The young family struggle to adjust to their poverty, but their plight is worsened by Yun becoming chronically ill; these desperate straits result in Shen Fu having to leave his family behind in search of paying work. Thankfully, after all his efforts he is able to find a benefactor, and the family is reunited under one roof (which is, sadly, not what happened in real life). In this early scene depicting the calm before storm, Shen Fu is trying to write a poem, but struggles to find the right words to finish off a line. As he is musing, his wife sneaks up and writes in her own suggestion, delighting him with her scholarly wit.

Although the movie as a whole is pretty dour, the first few scenes really stood out to me as a lovely (if inadvertent) depiction of an F/F couple being happily married with children, especially as Pak’s character is not reduced to being a mere mother or housewife, and the focus remains on the love between the pair. It’s also notable that the source material is known for being a rare depiction of a loving marriage in Chinese literature, and the earlier 1954 film adaptation specifically cast two actors who frequently played married couples (namely Cheung Wood-Yau/張活游 and Pak Yin/白燕; see source). The casting of Yam-Pak for this movie indicates that the studio was confident the public would embrace them as not only a romantic pairing, but specifically the ideal of a married couple.

Note: Six Records of a Floating Life is very much worth reading, not only because it's a vividly-drawn portrait of everyday life in 19th-century China (floral arrangements! exam LARPing! complaining about how touristy Hangzhou's West Lake is!), but also because it contains queer elements. There are references to Yun having a relationship with another woman (and asking her husband to take her on as a concubine, lol) and being attracted to other women, none of which are mentioned in this movie.

Links:

My post about Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin being queer icons

Final Scene: The Red Pear Tree Blossoms Again // 紅梨復艷 After many trials and tribuations, courtesan So-chau (Pak Suet Sin) is finally able to reunuite with her lover Chiu Yu-chau (Yam Kim Fai). However, Chiu – a newly-appointed magistrate tasked with eliminating corruption – is determined not to enjoy the festivities, especially as he believes So-chau to be dead. Eventually, So-chau succeeds in drawing his attention, but Chiu is shocked to see her standing before him, and immediately assumes that she is a ghost (there are story reasons for this, but it’s still funny to see). Thankfully, the misunderstandings are quickly cleared up and the pair have their happily ever-after-after. Note: The English title is a very loose interpretation of the original title of the scene, which would be more literally translated as “The Red Pear Blossom Returns to its Full Glory”. Also, the scene summary is not entirely accurate because it would take far too long to go into the exact details… this film has quite a few twists and turns XP

Links:

My post about Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin being queer icons

My summary of the film

Clip of this scene on Youtube

Outline Based on the folk tales surrounding Xi Shi, one of the Four Great Beauties (四大美女) of China. The Yue Kingdom has been conquered by the warmongering Wu Kingdom, and its king and queen have been taken hostage. In a bid to rescue the monarch and turn the tables, minister Fan Li (Yam Kim Fai) recruits the humble but politically-minded washerwoman Xi Shi (Pak Suet Sin) and trains her up to become the king of Wu’s concubine— in other words, their woman on the inside. Both fall for each other, but love their country too much to call off the mission, so Xi Shi enters the Wu Kingdom’s court as originally planned. And it turns out that she is naturally gifted as a saboteur: drawn in by her beauty and constantly turned around by her cleverness, the king of Wu soon becomes a puppet dancing to the tune of Yue’s liberation… Scene Summary Although Xi Shi is an excellent spy, that’s not to say that she does not face her own share of troubles. She is isolated, having no compatriots apart from another concubine sent with her from Yue Kingdom, and not knowing when she can see her love next; and of course, there is also a very high chance of her dying in the Wu Kingdom even if she succeeds in causing its ruin. In this scene, Xi Shi has spent some time at the Wu court and so is elated to see a visiting Fan Li – however, both are filled with mixed emotions, knowing that their reunion is only temporary and that they cannot allow their feelings to jeopardise the mission.

What’s great about Xi Shi, The Eternal Beauty is that it’s basically a spy movie in a period setting. Sure, Xi Shi is beautiful, but the emphasis is on her being hyper-competent and highly intelligent; even when the king of Wu and his advisors are suspicious of her, she’s able to run circles around them. And despite it being a honey trap, there’s no threat of sexual assault or sexual violence at all! Thanks to the censorship of the 1950’s, the king of Wu is reinterpreted as just someone who really likes watching (non-sexualised) dance performances. It’s a novel take on Xi Shi, as most tellings depict her as being a passive pawn, whether as a helpless woman whose body is exploited in the conflict between Yue and Wu, or as someone who manages to ruin a kingdom purely by dint of being so beautiful that the ruler cannot focus on his duties. Take a look the essay linked below, and marvel at how much better this movie is!

Links:

My post about Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin being queer icons

An English-language academic essay by HKU professor Olivia Milburn on the depictions on Xi Shi in early Chinese literature

Outline & Commentary Triennial Mourning on the Bridge concerns two brothers who are very close: older brother Yiu Cho dotes on younger brother Tse Cho (Yam Kim Fai), and in turn the latter does his best to return such kindness. But the relationship is tested for the first time when the younger brother discovers that his older brother is – by an unfortunate twist in fate – unknowingly marrying his own sweetheart Chun Heung (Pak Suet Sin), whom he lost contact with after the outbreak of war, and who was sold into marriage by her mother. This is a movie with some real ups and downs. The start is pretty slow going, as it introduces you to the two lovebirds, outlines the good relationship between the two brothers, then skips ahead to focus on Chun Heung and her mother’s life after the war. And then it hits you with this incredible scene, this wedding where the two sweethearts meet again after many years, but Chun Heung has been locked into a union she doesn’t want, and Tse Cho loves his brother too much to ruin his marriage. This gifset really does not do it justice, especially as I had to cut the fifth GIF short to fit the size requirements, so please do watch the scene in full (it starts 27 minutes in)!

Links:

My post about Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin being queer icons

Summary The daughter of a shipping tycoon, Yam Ming Fai (Yam Kim Fai) runs the family business in Hong Kong while pretending to be a man, but dreams of being able to marry her male subordinate. Unfortunately for her, she finds out that he is already dating someone, a small-time singer named Chan Ping Sin (Pak Suet Sin). What else is a girl to do but try to seduce her crush’s girlfriend, to force them to break up? (Many things, surely, but the multitude of other options do not occur to Ming Fai.) But while Ming Fai wins the battle, she loses the war, because although Ping Sin falls for her, her crush gets engaged to another woman instead. There is also a subplot about a working-class couple who want to get married despite their parents’ disapproval, which feels almost like a whole separate movie folded into this one.

Despite the inevitably conservative ending, it’s a fun watch, made funnier by how the movie seems to wink at the audience with regard to the queer elements. At the start, the script has Ming Fai assert both her heterosexuality and gender-conformity to a female friend, but in the film itself Yam is bursting with a cheeky charm not found in her other characters, who are generally rather staid and earnest. There’s also a heavy emphasis on the flirting with Pak’s character, and there are multiple instances of Ming Fai boasting to her male crush about winning Ping Sin’s affections – supposedly to make him jealous, but she seems far too gleeful for this to be the case. Ping Sin herself is also an interesting case; there’s a large contrast between her harsh, dismissive treatment of her boyfriend and her sweet attitude towards Ming Fai throughout, which subtly undermines the ending wherein she returns to the former. And it would be remiss not to add that yes, the character names are definitely riffing on the actors’ names – “Yam Ming Fai” and a lot of the other characters’ names are obvious enough, but even the “Chan” in “Chan Ping Sin” comes from Pak Suet Sin’s real name, Chan Suk Leung/陳淑良. Make of that what you will.

Note: Sadly, this is the only extant film wherein Yam plays a female character who is romantically linked with Pak’s character in some way; copies no longer seem to exist for the five other examples, namely Lucky Strike/福至心靈 (1951), Stage-Fans’ Sweetheart/戲迷情人 (1952), Two Naughty Girls/一對胭脂馬 (1952), Love Affairs of the Opera Master/伶王艷史 (1953), The Clumsy Lover/糊塗脂粉客 (1953).

Links:

My post about Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin being queer icons